


Litost

by FloodFeSTeR



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (sort of), Adorable Cole, Comfort/Angst, Consent, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flashbacks, Gentle Sex, Gentleness, Healing Sex, Helpful Cole, Mental Breakdown, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Iron Bull, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Triggers, Trust Issues, Vaginal Fingering, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:50:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloodFeSTeR/pseuds/FloodFeSTeR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>:a state of torment created by the sudden sight of ones own misery.</p><p>A run in with crazed Templars cripples the Inquisition, in a way they couldn't have imagined. It's up to the Inner Circle to fix this, and help their Inquisitor cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sucky summary and will be changed, but I am half asleep and determined to post. Let me know what you all think, a more warming note will be posted next chapter so bare with me.

It has to be a nightmare, or the Fade turned dark or something, because this cannot be happening.

At first, its just a subtle _brush_ , something she barely notices because she's so damn busy trying to find some light. Its so dark she can't even hear, save for that ringing in the distance when it gets to quiet. She doesn't mind that even, but perpetual darkness is just not her thing, she supposes and there has to be a light some damn where.

The next minute, its all rushing in with the slapping and the laughter, the casual calm in the background, waiting, the frantic grabs and pulls and bruises blooming over her skin. She can feel the tugs and twists and she still can't see because there's silver in her eyes and _red everywhere, stabbing towards the sky, declaring victory_.

She feels the energy, it surges through her and grows and it makes her twitch and jerk but that could be the teeth clicking at her that makes her do that.

Her eyes keep going black and after awhile, when the fingers stop probing her and the laughter dies, they leave her to her own devices and she knows. She doesn't know exactly what, but deep inside of her, she knows and her brain clicks. She can see, hear and feel the gears click, grind and rub against each other; it makes it all raw and numb at once. She shuts it down, has to, because she had responsibilities and she couldn't afford this, she couldn't.

_**Click.** _

_Sick_ , she's _sick_ , she _has_ to be sick because how could she feel this way and not be?

Its so hot but there's snow _around_ her, snow _on_ her, snow _in_ her, and she still cannot get cold enough.

She can't move, she can't see, she can't feel, and she doesn't like that, she doesn't like having her senses deprived.

But what can she do, what can she do? She's stuck, she's screwed, she's alone.

Where did the others go, they had been there only moments before; Dorian, Cole and Bull, all fighting, all bathed in red.

Lyrium and blood made a dangerous cocktail.

She liked it, she would never admit aloud, she liked the way Lyrium made her feel when she was just around it. Raw energy, alive and well beneath a crackling, mineral surface and it always fed the battle when it crested from the dirt and the rocks, the snow, slicing through like her sword through mail.

But now she was sick, and she didn't know what to do.

"Her! Her! I found her!"

 _Cole? Oh Cole, sweet Cole_ , she wanted him now more than ever, to talk about all his strange things and take her mind off of the sweltering heat she was suffering; why was she so sick?

"Maker's balls!"

Dorian always did have quite the way with words, she supposed, and now he was just as classy as ever. Did he have a spell to help her? She couldn't really remember what happened, she just knew she wanted to be cold, to be numb to the fire burning her; that was the only explanation.

"Oh Boss . . . "

What was he so worried about? Iron Bull, leader of the Chargers, fierce Qunari warrior worrying over the mighty Inquisitor?

It was just a cold, jeez.

"Sh-She's bad," Cole whimpered. "She's really bad, I have to help her."

_Yes, yes Cole he --_

"No, no one touches her until we get back to Skyhold," Dorian hissed somewhere, close and reeking of blood. "Oh my dear, what has happened to you?"

"I-I need to help!"

"C'mon kid," _Bull, Bull why wouldn't you let him help?_ "You get Adelaide, I get the horses."

"We must hurry, she needs healers."

How bad was it? She did remember a blade, those Templars grinning as she fell to the ground with blood dripping from her sh --

A scream ripped from her lips but there was still darkness; she couldn't open her eyes! She curled and writhed, suddenly feeling the cold, how numb she was and how warm that blood was, but there was still that heat inside of her, lingering, burning, and she wanted it gone.

"Hush, hush now," Dorian's knuckles his her cheek, her hair.

Wetness and more cold, she could feel it on her skin, in his voice.

"They did this," she whimpered, voice cracked and hoarse, eyes unopening still. "Th-They . . . Dorian, _help me_."


	2. Chapter 2

They address her through Dorian, who is the most formal they have ever seen him.

Yes, he is the same Dorian: same clothes, same face, same snark at the round table. But his views on the world, already grim, had been tainted and twisted, because of what the Templars had done.

A simple cleanup, that's all it was meant to be, getting rid of the remaining Reds that had hidden away in the crevices of Emprise Du Lion. They had even been doing so well, there had been talk of fighting dragons the next day, Bull's idea of course. The fire and the roar, the mighty swing of the beasts tail -- the stuff of dreams to him. But there was an ambush in the mines, an easy place to get separated and cut off from your partners.

They thought they could be an exception.

They hadn't even cleared the Templars, the beasts had just fled the mines and left the Inquisitor to die in the snow.

Many were outraged at the condition she had been returned in, but none knew the extent of the damage. They one of the ambush, assumed it was just a simple fight gone dirty and she had taken the brunt of the assault. They held her so close to them, as though she were a Divine if noted rank and not just the Inquisitor.

Only Dorian, Cole and Bull knew -- and none of them were saying a damn thing. Bull hid in the tavern more, as did Cole, who stayed locked up with Sera most days; she ignored the odd boy, for which he was glad because he said it helped him cope with this world. He didn't blink anymore, didn't even try to help around Skyhold anymore. He was too scared, Sera said often with an odd look on her face -- more odd than the normal looks she gave. But no information was to be gotten from the boy, his lips were sealed most of the time, muttering incoherently the next.

Dorian was always with Kataria, speaking for her when she tripped over her own tongue, catching her when she began to shake, keeping her grounded it seemed. She was trying to ignore everything she did, laughing when she fell, brushing people away when things fell out of her hands, which had begun to happen a lot. She still had her bandages, the hobble in her walk, but her demeanor seemed to put most of the residents of Skyhold at ease. Talks were less, outrage had died to cooling embers, and schedules had started to resume.

Outside of the Inner Circle.

Cullen, Lelliana and Josephine could feel the dread on Kataria, their Inquisitor, fearless leader, the Herald, and it made them more than uneasy.

"Is she ready to speak," Josephine questioned, board in hand and candle burning. "There are several matters in Emprise that demand our atte --"

Dorian's hand shot up, silencing Josephine only because a heavy sigh followed it. He pinched the bridge of his nose immediately with the same hand; he looked just as shaken and tired as the Inquisitor, possibly more so if that seemed possible. The Inner Circle had no doubt there was more behind closed doors, but the rumors raged like wildfire in all directions so the original fact was lost to Josephine now. It ranged from pregnancy to Kataria and Dorian being secret lovers.

Josephine had taken the habit of scoffing.

"She's not up for it today," Dorian finally spoke, arms crossed over his chest and a daring look in his eyes. "So, if you wouldn't mind, I am going to see to her."

He went to turn but Josephine all but snarled, cheeks flushed when the Tevintar whirled on her. Sometimes she forgot than Dorian was indeed a dangerous man, even if he didn't have his magic. He was a man, a fully grown, testosterone riddled man, despite the obvious lean in his sexuality which regularly blurred the line between feather beds and burning fireballs. He was no scrawny tuft like Cole, wasn't built like Bull, but he still had the build to make smaller people quiver.

Josephine was one of those people.

"She is not receiving visitors yet," he seethed lowly, expression chillingly somber. "So, if you do not mind, I am going to see to her."

And he slammed the door in her face, causing Josephine's hair to ruffle like her heart. She swallowed thickly, quill raised as she tried to gather herself before Cullen was at her side. He stared at her profile for a moment and then sighed, left hand gripping the pommel of his sword as he scratched at the back of his neck with his right hand.

"She's still not well," he questioned softly, though it was almost a statement.

Josephine blinked rapidly, embarrassment making her cheeks hot. "No," she started curtly, turning on her heel and Cullen kept stride with her easy; his legs were longer. "I need to speak with Lelliana and see if she has any insight on the matter," she started ticking away at the board in her grasp.

Cullen gave her a wary and also judgmental side glance as they exited out into the main hall. Kataria's throne glimmered in the lights coming from the stained glass, the chantry-styled throne a replica of golden fire and dangerous, threatening edges reaching towards the ceiling so high above it. The scent of fire and rashvine permeated the air, strong and musky, but also familiar and comfortable. It was a smell Cullen had grown used to fighting as a Templar, the scent of smoke and bitterness was as familiar as his mothers own scent; mothers did always have a distinct smell to a child.

"Do . . . " Cullen stopped Josephine outside the door to her antechamber with something as simple as a brush of fingers against her elbow. "Do you believe it is wise to be spying on something they so desperately want to keep secret?"

Josephine only hesitated for a second. "I need to know how to handle this," she sighed softly, he almost missed it. "I need to understand what I am dealing with, to formulate a tactical move in helping her."

Cullen shook his head. "You sound more like me than I do."

Josephine stared at him for a moment, her frown broad. "I just . . . " she hesitated. "I want her to be okay," she murmured softly.

Cullen nodded. "As do I."

* * *

He doesn't understand, and Solas has no way of making him understand why he cannot help her. He has made a routine since bringing her home, that he must go to Solas or Dorian and beg them to let him help. There's more pain in the boys eyes than their own Inquisitors', and he is truly persistent, even holds a good argument, but Solas always shakes his head; Dorian just doesn't answer the door anymore.

"But she is _hurting_ ," Cole shakes his head fiercely, pacing and pacing; Solas wonders if he could wear a rut in the floor. "She is _hurting_ and _I can help_ ," he stopped to stare frantically at Solas, hands outstretched because he doesn't know what to do with them anymore. "Why can I not help?"

Solas sighed, laying his quill down delicately beside the keystone that took up most of his space. "What happened to her . . . If you were to erase the memory in your attempt to fix her, she would no longer be the woman we know. She would lose herself in herself, the incident is tied to too many memories and important structures of her life. You would take away her entire being."

"But I would be careful!"

Solas sighed again, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He wanted Cole to help, he did, he could not stand, as much as the next, watching Kataria stumble around trying to act normal. She had tried desperately to ignore the problem, but when she shut down suddenly, he knew she was starting to break. She needed to come to terms with what happened, deal with it, but there was never any fixing this. Not with how hard she would suddenly throw things, drop her dinner tray and scream when people stared too long.

Dorian had already tried, Cole was still trying, even Vivienne had begun to plunder book after book on any possible way to safely sever the memory from Kataria's core. Solas knew no way to do so, but perhaps the humans or even his own 'kin' had somehow figured out this subject and had it transferred to text. That's all they had left right now, hope, because nothing else was working.

Solas stood, peering down the slight angle to Cole's desperate, wide eyes and he actually felt guilty for not having the answers.

"This is something we cannot help in the way you are accustomed to," Solas placed a hand on Cole's shoulder, unused to the contact. "It may help, but the risk of tearing her apart like that is too high. Allow us to do our part in trying to find a way around it, we will not let her sit in agony forever, Cole."

The pale boy shook his head fiercely and brushed Solas' hand off of his shoulder, stomping out of the rotunda and muttering along the way. Solas sighed and rubbed a hand up and down his face, walking back to his desk to continue plucking through the letters he had been looking at before Cole had stormed in. They were tedious things, such as the notes on the glyphs they had found in the Exalted Plains and the mapping of the temple those glyphs had unearthed; Kataria had become obsessed with Hart's and their connection to the much smaller Halla, so there were old reports he had unearthed scattered there, waiting for her.

Solas stared at the books for a moment, strumming the fingers of his left hand against the wood of his desk while the other hand clenched the back of his seat.

He sighed and took the few steps to the pile, gathering them neatly between his hands and he started for her tower door. The main hall was empty mostly, two lingering patrons at a small table by the door leading to the courtyard, Varric stirring his fire as he kept notes scattered about his own table. Before the incident, Kataria had giggled and spilled that Cassandra desired the next installment of Swords & Shields so Varric -- after a few more juicy bits of temptation -- had set to work, but now the pages lay stagnant, quill already stolen by a passerby.

Solas balanced the books in one hand, rasping his knuckles against the door. He got no response from the otherwise and then quirked his lips in the corner, knocking again. When he was met yet again with silence, he decided his patience had worm thin enough and he opened the door, waiting a breath for any noise, and closed the door softly behind him. He didn't hesitate after that, climbing the steps in a normal rhythm, thinking of a space still empty on her shelves that would perhaps fit the collection he had in his hands.

"It _hurts_ ," he heard her whimper and paused, listening carefully as Dorian sighed.

"I know," the tired magister spoke with deep sympathy and Solas could hear the creak of the bed. "Perhaps I can go down to the gardens for more of that salve, give me a moment."

"D-Dorian --"

"I am not leaving you alone," there was the rattle of the buckles all over Dorian's boots; how many could he need? "Solas will keep you company, right?"

Solas scowled and finished climbing the steps, catching the smirk Dorian had on his face as the man brushed past for the stairs. Solas did not look at her yet, though he could feel her staring at him intently as he walked to her bookshelves. He stopped in front of them, eyes roaming the empty spaces and decided to shuffle some around to her height before he relented and set the books he had been carrying down on her desk. There were fresh notes addressed to Dorian, on what salves and tomes he could find the information he seeked, which was not spoke of on paper.

Tevinters.

Solas brushed his dusty hands off on his breeches, sighing as he looked up. Kataria was swaddled atop sweaty and strewn sheets, dark hair in a frazzled braid down her back. Her vallaslin were oddly bright against her skin, usually a pale blue, they seemed to match ice now. He had never seen her so disheveled, even for a Dalish she had always managed to claim some sort of civility and always presented herself clean and pressed, even in the field.

Even for Solas, it was sometimes easy to forget she was just a woman.

"Hello," was all he said, hands clasped behind his back.

She nodded softly. "Hello," she mumbled, picking at a loose thread on the quilt over her legs.

Silence lapsed between them, interrupted occasionally by the soft howl of wind, the hammer from the smithy below them, the snicker of the horses, Harts and whatever other creatures she seemed to bring home.

Like Cole.

"They are worried about me," she mumbled and then sighed, leaning against the backboard of her bed. "They are worried and I. . .I'm here. . . "

"They know you are healing," Solas shook his head softly, approaching the side of the bed in a slow manner.

She just shook her head and went silent again, letting him linger at the bedside without saying a word. And it wasn't awkward silence, it may not have been comfortable, but it was not awkward and he knew she had always felt the tension he persistently hung too for some reason. Well, he knew his reasons, she did not, but she had admitted she felt as though he hated her sometimes and he felt suddenly regretful of his inadvertent bitterness.

It was not her he was angry at.

"I scared Dorian a moment ago," she whispered and Solas looked up. "He was so quick to leave, and he's been at my side this entire time. I believe he is growing tired of this but. . ." She shook her head, arms wrapping tight around her body. "I am trying."

Solas raises a hand. "You have no need to explain yourself, da'len," she perked up visibly at the endearment. "He understands, the magister may be crass and rude, but he cares deeply for you," he hesitated. "As do the rest of us," he admitted and placed a hand over hers atop the sheets. "We grew more concerned when you were silent and statuesque."

She trembled at the memory and he pursed his lips tightly, retracting his hand in a shaky and undecided manner. She had spoken to him only once before now, when the still spell had been broken. He knew how she had hated that, the aftershock, her body deciding for her the perfect coping mechanism, even if it meant hours of staring blankly at the mountains or down at the courtyard.

And now, she felt just as trapped.

"He's still here when I wake from nightmares," she shook her head. "I want him to go for a little while. Bull has been trying to get a hold of him and Dorian keeps putting him off for me. . ."

Solas sighed softly beneath his breath, seeing Cole peeking around the stained glass doors of the balcony. Solas gave him a scolding look and the spirit jumped, not even bothering to disappear as he usually did -- he just turned and stepped out of sight, but Solas could still see the edge of his hats brim.

"Cole wishes to help you," Solas murmured.

She looked up and sighed at the boy as he peered back around to her. "Dorian says it is impossible without losing all of me," she shook her head. "I don't want to lose myself. . .but this is becoming too much to bear."

Solas hesitated and then his shoulders sagged slightly. She noticed, peering up with hesitant eyes, like she actually expected him to do anything harmful to her. It stung him inside, to see that look on her face, the face of a normally strong and prideful woman.

_No, no she could never completely be that woman again now can she?_

"I will send Dorian away," Solas stood in one fluid movement, regaining his cool composure as he pushed down the soft wrinkles in his sweater. "He deserves his rest."

He looked over at her as she scrambled with the sheets, grabbing hold of the hem of his sweater and tugging. She had a panicked look in her eyes, her lips parted and cheeks rosy as they threatened to pressure tears from her lashes. He swallowed thickly, looking over to the snow being brushed over through the wind. Cole leaned off of the balcony, trying to catch a flake or two with the hand not holding the balcony.

"I did not tell you I would be leaving you alone," Solas looked back down at her, watching her arched back sag in relief. "I will stay with you for a time, I found the tomes you had wanted."

And he smiled down at her then, a soft curve of his pale lips. She swallowed softly, hesitantly letting him go, sinking back onto her heels; she fisted her hands in the disheveled sheets, her lithe body trembling under the oversize tunic she wore. She shook her head and jerked her head up, hair flicking back in shiny strands from her bitter but beaming smile; there were tears in her eyes and her hair needed to be washed.

"Thank you, Solas," her voice cracked.


End file.
